


Where the story starts

by panwonderland



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panwonderland/pseuds/panwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the beginning. Or the end. Depends on where you start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the story starts

The story starts in Thailand, on New Year’s Eve. Bradley can’t decide if he wants to focus on the fireworks or on the swaying body in front of him, lit by the bar’s blue and yellow lights, shins covered in sand, long legs, swimming trunks, wooden bracelet bought from the market- such a cliché on such a beautiful face-

Well, swaying body it is, even though it’s contoured by fireworks. Colin reaches out a warm hand, “come on, get up”, but his voice is deliciously infused with heat and sleep that Bradley is mainly tempted to pull him down into the sand and tangle his legs in that heat.

“This is, by far, the best New Year’s I’ve ever had”, Bradley says, and he means it. Even if he’s stoned out of his mind. Colin laughs and flops next to him gracelessly.

“Uh yeah, I bet it hardly compares to dinner with your mum”, as he speaks, his long fingers trail a sandy path from Bradley’s collarbone to his navel and keep going down under his trunks-

“Hey, hey, hey, not here, I think you’ve had too much sex on the beach or whatever you call that pink thing with the tiny umbrella you seem to have an affinity for”- he stops Colin’s fingers mid-trail and crosses them with his, stealing a quick kiss.

“I’d rather have some sex on the-“

“Oh god, don’t, this vacation has stolen all sense of wit you ever had”, Bradley shudders, can’t decide if it’s from the bad joke of Colin’s lips on his neck.

Bradley rakes quick fingers through Colin’s unruly hair and takes him in, suddenly overcome with his presence, his not taken for granted, heart-stopping presence.

“I love you, you know”, he says, determined to have the facts laid out like fragile china on glass tables.

“I know, I’ll keep that with me when you’re ten millions light years away and I’m tucked in freezing mud with Alice”. And it doesn’t really bother him not to hear it back so he must be pretty far gone.

“How will you go on without me, I wonder”, just because there’s still that insecure part of him whispering _he’s smarter than you more talented more interesting and beautiful and best at everything_.

“Oh Bradley, you know I’m a mess without you”, he says as he rubs his beard on Bradley’s chin, giving him shivers all over. And even though it’s clearly untrue, it’s still nice to hear.

Sparkly silver fireworks explode right above them and Colin jumps as Bradley takes out his phone and snaps a picture, screen consisting of 70% fireworks, 28% beard, 2% dimple. That one’s a keeper.

 _“No more airplanes or speed trains or freeways, there’d be no distance that could hold us baaaack_ ”, Colin mumbles his favorite song, and he’s captured on video for posterity, for proof. Yes.

But actually the story doesn’t start here.

The story starts with no fireworks and no sand. It starts in a crowded apartment in London, rain predictably hammering the windows and walls as Bradley puts his phone closer to his ear, trying to drown out the noise of his roommates watching a match. And something must be wrong with him if he’s trying to drown out a match just so he could-

“Wait, let me just close the door”- he snaps the door to his room shut and takes a deep breath, looks at the phone screen, counts 1,2,3.

“Did I just win over football?” Colin is clearly amused. Bradley is not.

“Col…” Bradley sighs. Can’t really find the courage or the words.

“So much honor. Impressed”. He keeps going even though Bradley’s not impressed. Not even a little bit.

“Why are you not here? Why am I in London and you are not here?” Bradley tries for angry and demanding, but barely manages hopeless and needy.

“Well… why am I in Belfast and you’re not here? Why are you in Vancouver when I’m not there? In L.A.?” Colin manages angry and demanding pretty good though.

“This is not… not what we settled”. Mostly hopeless.

“That’s a great retort. Guess you’ll have to make do with your hand”, Colin blurts and hangs up.

Hangs up. Like he’s fifteen.

Fuck you, Bradley mutters into the empty room. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Bradley rakes his hands through his hair and sits on the disheveled bed. Much, much too quickly his anger is replaced with terrible, huge, pathetic longing. Must be the smell in the sheets, or the reverberation of his voice echoing through the room. He just wants to wipe it all clean, like a big blob of white paint over a hideous wall. He can’t decide if he wants to wipe this Colin clean, the one who takes off just for spite, who runs from the problem, or just everything Colin from his life for good.

Obviously he’s had his heart battered quite a lot, but never in such a detailed and prolonged way. He wants to go back to that late night conversation on the Eurostar and turn it in a different direction.

To change the story.

**Author's Note:**

> Song quote is "This is the new year" by Death Cab for Cutie.


End file.
